I’m beginning to smell your rotting corpse,
As it begins to fill up my room,
And as your organs decay and burst their insides,
I begin to question the efficacy of your container.
Alas, you are dead,
Departed our world,
However much I would gravely desire to see you again,
Without your bones shining through the luminous light of day,
It is only then I realize I’ve been seeing things,
Reality hard to swallow as it is to breathe!

Suffocating in the breathes that you’ve left behind,
A room of possessions, tainted and stained with memory,
I pluck a single one and put it in my eye,
Distantly, you lay placid in your enclosure.

Oh when is it that I rid of your corpse!
I’m beginning to find your scent acrid as it clasps on with bitter claws,
Returning now that shall I should,
It’s just that I’ve haven’t, yet, not now, at least, perhaps, one day…
Come to terms with the presence of this scent!
All the while threading through my eyes.

Gently, I wish you softer places,
Godspeed for a swift reunion.
Dare I say a bit early, but I should lay you down,
Face, obscured by the scented sand masking blood.

Grim indeed it is.
But I mustn’t let sight falter my smile when I visit you,
All within the confines of this dainty head of mine,
Looking down as I make sure, that these sands would not reveal your fate.